


Sweet Talking

by duckbunny



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, sexual favours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckbunny/pseuds/duckbunny
Summary: There are ways to get what you need in the FBI, not all of them pleasant. And there are ways for your partner to make it up to you.





	Sweet Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags please. Shepard coerces sex from Holden. The Bill/Holden part is consensual.

“Can you shut him up?”

“I have not been able to do that, sir.”

Holden knows he shouldn't look at Tench after he says that, but his head turns anyway. Bill's shrugging at Chief Shepard with that what-can-you-do expression, writing Holden off with one eloquent gesture. It sparks him up a little, anger – how _dare_ Bill imply that he's unmanageable? - and shame – the first time Bill ever shut him up, on the deck outside the first cheap motel, smell of sweat and beer and warm cigarette ash ground into the knees of his suit pants.

Shepard looks between them, his jaw stubbornly set. Nobody moves until he speaks again. “Agent Ford. Would you kindly shut the door?”

Holden closes his mouth, hating himself for letting his jaw drop like a stunned goldfish, and says “Yes, sir.”

Shepard lets him swing the door shut before he continues, “And lock it, if you please.”

“Sir.” Holden hesitates, one hand flat on the wood. He looks over his shoulder. Bill is glowering, his shoulders hunched. Shepard is tapping one finger impatiently on the couch. His legs are a little spread. Bill's glare is a warning siren: _do_ _not fuck this up_ _._

“Is there a problem, Agent Ford?”

Holden breathes. He lifts his chin. “No, sir.”

He locks the door.

Tench makes a noise behind him, a barely-there sigh, bracing himself for what comes next. Somehow it's that that tips Holden over into certainty. He lets his hand fall to his side and says to the varnished wood of the doorframe, “The blinds are still open, sir.”

Chief Shepard shifts on the couch. Holden turns to see his hand pressed against his crotch. “Agent Ford. Are you suggesting that anything untoward might happen? In _my_ office, with two agents present?”

Holden feels his shoulders go back at the dismissive tone. He doesn't let his eyes stray from Shepard's face. “No, sir.”

“Good.” Shepard leans back into the couch, absolutely sure of himself. “You can shut the blinds.”

“Thank you, sir.” Holden keeps his face impassive while he adjusts them, the vanes clattering much louder than the lock. The room is smaller without the view into the hallway, and darker. He steps back into the room and shares one heavy glance with Bill, one moment of Bill's hand warm and strengthening on his shoulder.

Tench grips his other shoulder as well and turns him to face the Chief. “How can we convince you, sir?”

He pushes down. Holden lowers himself slowly, first to one knee then to both, kneeling between Shepard's open legs. He can feel the shakiness in his breath. He tries to keep it inaudible. Shepard opens his fly.

“You can tell me exactly what it is you are doing. What is your plan here? I assume you have one, beyond making friends with these people?”

Holden is mesmerised by Shepard's cock, held loosely in his curled fingers. He's barely stroking it and he's barely hard, apparently unmoved by Holden on his knees, and that shouldn't sting the way it does. He's not sure what to do - reach up, or lean forward, or wait – until Shepard, still looking at Tench, grabs him by the hair.

He opens his mouth as he's pulled forward. He sucks what Shepard feeds him, slow and gentle as he would want himself, until the flesh starts swelling against his lips.

Tench steps in closer behind him, his legs knocking Holden's back. Holden is caged between them and suddenly the world contracts, just the space between these two men and himself the smallest thing in it.

“We're not trying to make friends with them, sir. We _are_ trying to get them to open up, because otherwise we can't study them. You feed a lab rat treats to make it go through a maze, it's the same thing.”

“What treats?”

Tench takes a moment to think about it. Holden tries to do something with his tongue.

“Company, sir. These men are bored. Kemper especially, he's a smart man, he's convinced of his own importance, and he has nothing to do. For him, getting to talk about his crimes _is_ the reward. I think for the others too, we'll be the most interesting thing that's happened in years. We might have to bribe some of them a little.”

“Bribe!”

“Small things. A sandwich from outside, a smoke. Nothing they can barter with.”

Shepard pushes Holden's head down. He gags at once, an awful choking noise spilling out of him, and Shepard's hand tightens in his hair and moves him up a fraction, just enough that he's quiet. He can feel his throat still trying to spasm. His vision blurs.

“I won't have that. Get them specials from the commissary, I suppose, but if you give them anything from outside I want to know about it.”

“Understood, sir.”

Holden pants through his nose.

“Do not waste your time on this. You have a job to do. A real job, which produces real effects and improves the reputation of the Bureau. Don't get distracted. I am allowing this, provisionally, as a side project. If Road School suffers, I will end it. Is that clear?”

“As crystal.”

“Good.” Shepard finally pulls Holden off. Holden gasps and swallows, trying desperately not to drool. Shepard smacks him in the cheek with his spit-wet cock. “You will relocate to the basement below Behavioural Science, reporting directly and exclusively to me.”

“The basement? I'm forty-four years old.”

Holden reaches back and grips Tench's shin.

Shepard doesn't acknowledge the protest. “If I deem any aspect of it to be unwarranted, unnecessary or unsavoury, the project is over. Do you both understand?”

“Yes,” Holden rasps.

“Yes, and thank you sir.” Tench kicks him gently.

“Thank you, sir,” Holden echoes.

Shepard tucks himself back into his pants and waves a hand at them. “You're dismissed.”

As Holden follows Tench out of the office, in full hearing of his secretary and half the hallway, Shepard says, “Agent Ford? Next time you come into my office trying to smart-mouth your way out of something, I expect you to be more convincing.”

Holden pauses mid-stride and looks over his shoulder. “Yes, sir.”

 

They don't talk as they pack up their desks. Bill grumbles to himself and anyone nearby about arbitrary office rearrangements, but he passes it off as Road School being moved, doesn't mention the sequence killer project. Holden follows his lead. He's not in the mood for conversation anyway.

They're setting down their boxes and trying to find the best furniture in the basement when Bill says, “Holden, shut the door.”

Holden lifts his head up sharply. He doesn't look around.

“Okay, then I'll shut the door.”

Bill's a heavy man. Holden can track him around the room by the sound of his shoes on the ground. He shuts the door and steps in behind Holden again, just like in Shepard's office, but this time the hand comes down on his hip and turns him.

Holden meets his eyes. He leans back against the dusty filing cabinets and tips his chin up, almost daring Bill to scold him.

Bill braces himself either side of Holden, penning him in. “You did good in there.”

“What?”

“With Shepard.”

Holden huffs out a breath. “I don't think he was very impressed with my technique.”

“You don't have any technique. We've been over this. How you got this far without learning I still don't know.”

“I have a fine ass.”

Bill snorts. “Sure. Hop up on this.” He slaps the filing cabinet.

“Uh – why?”

“Just do it.”

Holden jumps up, and immediately regrets sitting on the dusty top and dirtying another pair of pants on Bill's orders. Bill has his hands on Holden's thighs suddenly, big hands, stroking his thumbs up Holden's inseam.

Holden says “Oh.”

He opens his thighs enough for Bill to fit between. Bill grips him a little hard, a shock of pain that goes straight to his groin. Holden makes an embarrassing noise, squeaky through his nose.

Bill runs the back of his knuckles against the bulge in Holden's pants. “Have I done this before?”

“No,” Holden says.

“Well, then I guess you never earned it before.” Bill undoes Holden's fly. Holden watches his hands move. “Don't grab,” Bill says. “Put your hands on the cabinet. Keep them there.”

“Yes, sir,” Holden says very softly.

Bill smiles, just barely, before he dips his head.

It's strange. It doesn't feel right, Bill bowing his head to suck Holden's cock, like it should be the other way around, but Holden can't move his hands and Bill is still gripping his thighs hard enough to keep them apart, and the top of Bill's head moving between his legs resolves into the hottest thing Holden has seen in weeks, and his hips tilt forward.

Bill punches him lightly on the thigh. “Don't get pushy,” he says, and takes Holden's cock back in his mouth.

Holden screws his eyes shut and tries to hold still.

Eventually Bill stops, when Holden is moaning through his bitten lip, and straightens up. Holden worries but Bill's hand closes around his still-slick cock and keeps working him up towards his peak. “You can touch me as well, you know,” he says with amusement.

Holden reaches up uncertainly, until instinct takes over and he wraps his arms around Bill's shoulders and arches into his warm strength, his firm hand. There's a handkerchief in Bill's pocket, and then there's Holden muffling his noise in the shoulder of Bill's jacket, and shaking as he comes.

Bill makes a face at the soiled cloth and folds it up small. Holden drops the small distance back to his feet and nearly loses his balance.

“You did good,” Bill says again. “Do you want the desk near the door, or by the wall?”

“I don't mind,” Holden says, dazed. “Whatever you think.”

Bill gets most of the room set up to his liking before Holden realises he's been tricked.


End file.
